Turning Elemental
by Nix Entente
Summary: Love, even true love, only goes so far.


Author's Note: Yo. This is my first story to ever be post here on or anywhere online, for that matter. So, I'm a little nervous. Kinda like stage fright. XD Just a tiny one shot to give a little perspective on the Sunagakure's head family. It's the kazekage's paradigm, but the tale is really about Temari. Er, if anyone doesn't catch this--" Kiboshi" is just that Avis the Crow made up for the Kazekage. If he has a cannon name, please, please let me know.

Title: " Turning Elemental," and if you can figure why I called it this, you have a nice little chunk of my awe.

Summary: Love, even real love, only goes so far.

Rating: T, just to be safe. References to violence, attempted suicide.

Soundtrack: Listen to " The Tide," by the Spill Canvas. This song will make you very sad on it's own. It doesn't even need fandom to be depressing. But, coincidentally, it does fit this story! But, go find it on YouTube and listen before or while you read. That way, you'll understand the context of the new scene dividers, which can be found in italics and parenthesis.

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It had been a week since the baby was born. Temari, her name was. It felt a bit odd on his tongue, but Karura insisted upon it. Kiboshi was glad he hadn't been there for delivery, although he was rather sure his wife was not so grateful for that fact. When she came home early evening, toting the glowing newborn, she smiled and kissed him hello. She even offered the baby to him(He refused rather quickly; she was such a tiny, fragile thing, and his strongs arms were anything but delicate). But, something about Karura's manner was cold.

Moments after Karura entered, her mother strode through the door, even harsher than her small daughter. She made it clear to Kiboshi just how irresponsible he was for leaving his wife to give birth alone, with only her dear mama to comfort her. Karura made no great contribution to the scolding, nor gave a defense, going to the small room laid aside for their new daughter.

Karura was tired. She fed the baby in the evening, as Kiboshi stood watching from the corner. She laughed softly at his awkwardness around the child, but he could not bring himself to come too near. The little girl dozed off almost as soon as she had stopped nursing, and Karura held Temari against her shoulder and patted her lower back. A few tiny burps brought a chuckle out of the father's throat, and Karura smiled gently at him.

She laid Temari carefully in the crib, belly up, and tucked a light cotton blanket around the small form. He still only watched, leaning against the doorframe. Karura walked softly over to him and rested her head on his shoulder, curling her arms in front of her. He wrapped his own around her shoulders, chin on her head, watching the baby. Karura's back was turned.

" Can we go to bed? I'm so tired."

Now, in the dark, Kiboshi woke to the sound of wailing. He started, rolling slightly in the sheets. Temari was noisy in the other room, sobbing, squealing, screaming. His eyes darted absently in the dark, and he turned to whisper to the sleeping woman next to him. " Kachan...Karura."

" Mm?" One eye opened lazily.

" The baby's crying."

" I just fed her. Ten minutes ago. You didn't wake up."

" ...but...shouldn't we get her?"

Karura shifted to face him. " Love, if we rock her to sleep, she'll never learn to sleep on her own." His face fell. " Just try to ignore it, hm?"

Kiboshi nodded and laid back down.

He tried to ignore it for another fifteen minutes. The baby continued to fuss, awful sounds that babies make. He cringed at every little hiccough, sob and moan. As hard as he tried, Kiboshi could not suppress his thoughts of what that girl was feeling. It tore his heart apart to imagine her infantile mind, wondering why--why, no matter how loud she screamed, why would no one come?

He got up. He got up and crept out of his own bedroom and into the nursery. The crying was almost unbearable here, and he quickly went to the side of the crib. At first, a shock of fear ran through him. Such a tiny little thing--he couldn't pick her up! Not with his clumsy, thick hands! But, anything had to be better than this crying. Oh, so carefully, Kiboshi lifted little Temari up, one hand cradling her shoulders and head, the other stretching easily from her pudgy legs to her back. As he tentatively rested the warm creature at his neck, the sobs began to decrease in frequency and volume, and soon became soft, disrupted coos.

It was like magic.

She was like magic--the heat from her tiny body, radiating off her skin, her face, her hands. So heavy, she was, for such a small person, warm breath gentle against his neck. Kiboshi's mind went completely blank. He'd never felt anything like this before. He didn't like children. But this--this was his daughter. His daughter. Daughter. His. Daughter. It was instant love. Love without reason, without reciprocation. In that moment, he loved nothing more than he loved this girl, his daughter, Temari.

_-(...and their mother whispers quietly...)-_

Six months later, nothing had really changed. Karura was somewhat absent in mind, but she did her duties, and Kiboshi had no reason to complain. Her mother visited more and more frequently, which was horrible beyond horrible, in his opinion. The woman was always correcting them both, telling them how to go about the daily things that they had been doing for the past two years just fine, instructing them on how to raise the baby.

And then there was young Yashamaru. Really, he wasn't such a bad boy. But, oh, did he ever adore that little niece of his. " Princess," he called her, swinging her up and down, bringing her little playthings, her favorite of which was a bright blue wooden ball. It was just small enough to fill her fist, and perfect for banging on tables, floors, legs, heads and other toys.

When Yashamaru was around, Kiboshi became jealous. There was an especially strong connection between Temari and her daddy, but that uncle always seemed to captivate her childish attentions with his sunshine smile and dancing eyes. Yashamaru was always laughing--youthful, sweet and clear, and Temari would clap her hands when he laughed.

But sometimes, when Yashamaru would would dance with her, gently swaying back and would, Karura and her mother bickering in the kitchen, Temari would gaze at Kiboshi over her uncle's shoulder and give a huge, toothless grin. " Babababababa..." she would repeated that one syllable over and over, and he would smile back and wave. Silently, he would say to her across the room, " Hey, baby. Hey." And Yashamaru would turn and send some of that sunlight at his brother-in-law.

Now, though, mother-in-law had gone to the market, taking the little mama and Yashamaru with her. Kiboshi picked up Temari, who was somewhat distressed at the sudden quiet, and walked out on the balcony, crouching to sitting against the cool, shaded stone wall. He slouched, drawing her up to his neck as he so often did. He was no longer afraid that he might hurt her; over the months he had realized just how resilient little babies are.

Temari tugged at his coarse, dry hair, murmuring some nonsense in his ear, and leaned over to give him what could have been construed as a kiss. Temari's kisses, at this point, involved opening her mouth wide and tilting forward until she hit the target of the kiss. Here, she bumped against papa's cheek and then clumsily buried her head into his shoulder.

After a while, she grew still. A warm desert wind blew above them, and both were silent in the mild heat. Temari slowly fell asleep, occasionally making some odd bit of noise. Kiboshi looked up at the sky, eyes half closed. At this moment, he suddenly wished to again have the times when Karura would lay against his chest, just the two of them taking in the shade, quiet, breathing the blessed air.

Someday soon, when the family had left, and Temari could be cared for, he wanted just one of those times back. Karura probably wanted it, too.

_-(...love is just a hoax...)-_

" I'm pregnant."

" Good."

" Good? That's it?...That's sweet, Kiboshi."

" Well, we planned for it, didn't we? It's not exactly a surprise."

Papa had changed since he was appointed kazekage. Even while Kankurou was still in the womb, he began to grow more distant. Temari missed having her father in the house during the day, and she wanted him to smile. Now all he did was yell.

One evening, something happened. She didn't know what it was, but Mama was angry when she locked herself in the bathroom, and Papa was even more angry when he demanded that Temari and Kankurou go to their room. The two of them sat on the edge of their respective beds, staring at the wood paneled floor. The voice of their father was muffled by the floor, but the sharp ringing of a doorknob being smashed was not at all dulled. More shouting followed, and Temari forced herself to not cry.

Her tears told her that she was frightened by the loud noise and unknown circumstance. Her heart told her that she was sad because Mama and Papa hated each other. Her head told her that she was angry because they had no right to treat Kankurou and her the way they were being treated. She held hard to the blankets of her bed.

A soft murmur of her name drew her attention. Kankurou was watching her, waiting to focus his vivid green eyes on hers. He didn't seem to be feeling anything. Temari asked him what he wanted.

" Do you think Dad will kill Mama?"

Temari gasped and immediately scolded him for such a suggestion, but the thought struck her. As usual, her odd brother seemed detached from it all, watching and waiting as if it wasn't happening to him. Sometimes she hated Kankurou for that. For his ability to sluff of life as some sort of drama that he could just watch, say, " Well, that's nice," and then move on.

Oddly enough, as the hours gradually limped by, the little boy fell asleep, and Temari realized what she wanted. She wanted Papa back. Mama was never there, and she never would be. She had inherited a lot by way of looks from her mother, but the bond between father and daughter was uncanny. Somewhere in her head, she still wondered.

When would he hold her again?

When Kiboshi opened their door a crack, Temari pretended to be sleeping. He leaned against the door frame, eyes struggling to stay open. His sleeves were stained with blood that was not his own, and the same blood was smudged around his neck and a little over his cheeks. This would not happen again. That was for sure. Never again, if he could help it.

Hesitantly, he stepped into the bedroom. His eyes fell first on Kankurou, whose small chest rose and fell with remarkable indifference to the world around him. Some part of him went out to the boy, but he wasn't so sure he could say he loved that child...he wasn't so sure that he loved anything anymore.

Well...maybe something.

Temari was surprisingly still for a sleeping child. An amused smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes stung for sadness. Ever so softly, he walked over and crouched down by her bed, leaning in to brush his long-drawn cheek against her chidlishly pudgy one. A kiss found it's way to her jaw, landing like a feather--barely detectable. She was not asleep, but he didn't need to let her see that he noticed.

Kiboshi stood and walked back to the door, pausing for one last glance at his firstborn. Then he shut the door.

Temari buried her face in her pillow and cried.

_-(...the tide came in and swept her three into the ocean...)-_

Temari wanted to be a ninja, more than anything. There were so few reputable kunoichi, and she was bound and determined to be one of the few. Not all girls were soft and motherly. Not all girls were giggly and shallow. Not all girls were afraid of the wind because it would tussle their hair. Temari wasn't afraid of the wind.

By this point, the wind and sand kept her going. She knew better than to hope in family--it was as weak as any other support.

Mother died screaming bloody murder. Mother hated them all in the end. She had never really loved, so it wasn't such a hurt. But, birth was supposed to be such a happy thing.

Father died inside years ago. Ever since he became Kazekage, the position was eating away at everything he was. Sure, he was a loving parent at one point, but most of that was gone by the time his second child was born.

Gaara was always dead. Like a ghost, Gaara was always there to haunt. No one was quite sure he could ever love, and no one did anything to encourage him to do so. He would probably always be dead.

Kankurou lived, out of sheer indifference. He coasted through the hard childhood years like they were just a bad dream. Now though, adolescence had started a fire in his soul. Kankurou was changing rapidly, and there was something fearful about his new self.

Temari held onto the desert. As hard as they were to catch, the elements were always consistent. She would live as a good soldier should. Not all girls were afraid of danger, duty, and blood.

But, for all her stoicism, she had to know. She had to just make sure that there was really nothing left.

_-(...but he's not coming back...)-_

In a dimly lit room, Temari bowed forward to the Kazekage. He looked up blankly from where he was sitting. His expression was tired, eyes red from working so late into the night. There had been too many years of that.

They spoke emotionlessly about the exam, about the boys, about the mission. It would be set in motion tomorrow. Neither seemed especially moved at that moment. It was a typical conversation, until just before Temari went to leave.

Silently, hesistantly, she walked up to and around the table to stand next to her father. He watched curiously as she sank to her knees. Her crystaline eyes captured his own, searching desperately for something. He didn't know what, but he suspected that it wasn't there. Then, without warning, Temari wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

For a moment, the sun flashed in his mind. The warm afternoon wind blew over a man, a couple, a family. The heat shimmered off the ground. What a memory. The smell of dust and sweat, the comfort of loved ones held safe in strong arms--for a moment, it raced through his head.

In the present, he noticed her. She was willful and hard-working. Her arms were strong and her hands were rough. Her eyes were still burning with the energy of youth, despite her seeming maturity. She embraced him honestly...but she was still trying to get something out of him, something he was sure now he could no longer provide.

He did not move as she pulled away, saying nothing more. Again, Temari watched him, but he did not meet her gaze. So, she stood and walked out. Kiboshi looked down at his desk, feeling nothing.

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As it goes for any author here, it goes for me. All comments appreciated greatly, so please contribute. I'm a pretty new writer, and I'd love to know what I'm doing wrong and what I'm doing right. And, I humbly ask for your review.


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